


Baby It's Cold Outside (so hold me tight in your arms and don't let go)

by FireflySong



Series: Baby It's Cold Outside [1]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: After care, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing Clothes, chris is having a bad time of things and just really needs a nap, if you think anything else should be added or removed let me know!, its me, of a sort, or more like Mid Care I suppose, second story on this site so im not super comfortable with tagging yet, someone in this story is a cockblock, who it is is anyones guess!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23182237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySong/pseuds/FireflySong
Summary: It was just supposed to be a weekend retreat in the Washington's lodge to remember the twins. And now Jess is dead, Josh is alive again, Mike is missing a couple of fingers, Ashley's covered in blood, and Chris' brain is just fried to shit from stress and trauma. But with Josh tied up in the shed and the night now half-over, it's time to lick their wounds and wait until Emily arrives with help.AKA, the After (Mid?) Care fic that no one asked for but you're still getting.
Relationships: Ashley Brown/Chris Hartley
Series: Baby It's Cold Outside [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869547
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	Baby It's Cold Outside (so hold me tight in your arms and don't let go)

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, there was a 45 minute time gap from the time Mike and Chris took Josh to the shed and Emily barging into the lodge. And you expect me to believe that no one thought to clean themselves up? I mean, Ashley was literally covered in blood. They didn't know that Em was going to be barging in the door screaming about monsters at 4:30 in the morning. So this is me fixing that. Enjoy!

The snow under Chris' boots crunched softly as he mournfully walked the short distance back to the lodge. Mike had offered, or rather, he’d refused any other option from Chris; to stay behind in the shed to watch Josh. Not that Chris had fought very hard in the first place. A part of him, one he was ashamed to acknowledge and made him sick to his stomach, didn't want to be _anywhere_ near Josh at the moment. The fact that he was being held in the shed in the first place, the last place in the world that Chris would ever want to step foot into again, hadn't made the choice to leave any harder. While he and Mike had tied Josh up in the separate room from the main area, and had its own outside entrance, it was still far, _far_ too close to the main area of the building.

The area where Ashley and Josh had been hanging, screaming and sobbing at him for help. Help he had been unable to give despite how hard he had tried to break down the door separating him from his two best friends. Where he had watched helplessly, _uselessly_ , as the rotary saw blade moved closer and closer to them every second. The high metallic screeching and whirring of the blade unable to drown out their cries and the deep, distorted voice demanding he choose which friend lived and which one died.

Where he watched in horror as the blade changed tracks and mercilessly bisected Josh's body, or what he had been convinced was his body until a short half hour ago. Ashley screaming next to him (it?), becoming more and more covered in its (his?) blood until the blade finally stopped turning. Screams he could still hear ringing in his ears, and was convinced he would always hear until the day he died.

So despite the soul-crushing relief he had felt when he realized that not only was Josh _alive_ , but that he hadn't been forced to kill his best friend, the further he was away from the shed, the better.

Chris continued his lonesome march, the only sounds in the surrounding area being the wind of the snow storm blowing through the trees and the crunch of snow beneath his feet. He huddled deeper into his winter coat, wishing he had thought to bring a pair of gloves and toque with him, and pulled out his phone from his jeans pocket. He winced at the bright light that appeared on the screen when he pushed the power button and checked the time. 3:53 AM. He had only arrived on the mountain not even seven hours ago and it already felt like he had been here for _weeks_. He was mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted, but the day wasn't over, not by a long shot. They still had to wait until Emily and Matt made it back to the lodge, and then wait some more until the help they had called for arrived. Josh would get the help he desperately needed, and then everyone could just forget that this night ever happened and Chris could crash for like three days straight. Jess would have a smart comment about how it still wouldn't be enough beauty sleep to fix his issues but it was a start and—

_Jessica is FUCKING DEAD!_

Mike’s voice rang through his head and it felt like a punch in the stomach and he doubled over, unable to breathe. It was a miracle that he hadn't dropped his phone into the snow. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to prevent the tears that were threatening to escape, knowing that if he started now, the events of the last few hours would finally catch up to him and he wouldn't be able to stop. So taking a deep, shuddering breath, Chris stood back up straight. He wiped the melting snow from off the phone screen with his sleeve and put it back into his coat pocket, and then continued walking. He could break down once he was somewhere safe and warm and off this god-forsaken mountain.

The moment he caught sight of the lodge in the distance he quickened his pace and just about ran up the stairs to the front door, the sooner he was out of the snow the better. Once he entered the front hallway inside the lodge he shook off the snow that had begun to build up on his coat and stomped to get rid of the packed snow on his boots, though more out of habit than any intention or desire of keeping the lodge clean. That, and it kept him from looking at Ashley's blood-covered sweater where she had thrown it only a few feet to the left. She had ripped it off the instant the two of them had entered the lodge to look for Sam, throwing it as far away from her as she could, sobbing hysterically from having her friend cut in two not more than two feet away from her.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly beneath his glasses, Chris looked up only to _not_ see Sam and Ashley sitting on one of the couches in the main room where he and Mike had left them not twenty minutes ago. A sharp sensation of dread set in, making the room feel so much colder than it actually was.

"Sam? Ash?"

He tried to ignore the shake in his voice as he ran into the room and still didn’t see his friends anywhere. The only thing there was the quiet darkness that permeated the room. That was all it took before the panic truly set in, breath coming out uneven and his hands shaking in his pockets, the tight grip on his phone the only thing keeping him grounded to reality.

"Sam? Ash? Ashley! ASHLEY!" Chris' shouts just kept rising more and more in panic and horror the longer they didn’t respond, grabbing onto the back of one of the couches before his shaking legs finally gave out on him. His whole body was trembling and once again felt the sharp sensation of tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

No. Nononononono. This wasn't real. It _couldn't_ be real. He couldn't take anymore of this. Josh was tied up, and Mike was watching him, so none of this made sense. Distantly, he recalled Josh's confusion at Jess' death, but before he could work out exactly what that meant, and all the terrifying implications thereof, he heard Sam's voice.

"Chris? ... that ...?" Her voice sounded muffled and he was having problem making out the occasional word, like it was coming from another part of the lodge entirely, as though entire floors and rooms were separating them.

He took a moment to regulate his breathing before speaking. "Y-yeah," and then winced at how it cracked, praying she was so far away that she wouldn't notice. Clearing his throat, he tried to speak in a more steady tone, shouting into the empty lounge. "Yeah. Where are you? Are you alright?"

"... fine. Just ... up.... bathroom."

Chris let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Of course, it made sense. They probably just went to clean up or something, he had been panicking for nothing. There was no reason for him to be this scared anymore. His reassurances weren't enough to stop how much his legs continued to shake and when he tried letting go of the couch he nearly fell to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

God, he was _so_ ready for this night to be over.

Running his hands over his face, Chris took one last shuddering breath to calm his nerves and climbed the stairs. He was being foolish. There was no other murderer or psycho or madman or anything, it was Josh, just Josh. It had all been _just Josh_. He was being silly and over-reacting and everything was over.

It didn't stop him from taking the stairs two at a time.

He tried to ignore the red balloons with their painted on arrows tied to the stairs and walked down the short adjoining hallway to the large master bathroom. Just add balloons and arrows to the list of things that he was never going to able to enjoy again. A list that had rapidly expanded to now include dolls and their houses, rocking horses, and pigs. As well as the completely normal inclusions of rotary saws and clowns.

When he entered the doorway to the bathroom he distantly noted the warm glow about the room, one of them had lit the candles placed around the bathtub. And then proceeded to collapse against the door frame as his muscles just relaxed with the immense feeling of relief at the sight of Sam and Ashley sitting on the bathroom couch. Sam's back was to him but he noticed a wet washcloth in her hand and was wiping at the dried blood on Ashley's face, and he didn't miss the way her shoulder's relaxed at the sight of him as well. They were both safe, they were both fine. That was all that mattered.

Looking at Ashley though, he noticed that her hands were completely hidden inside the sleeves of the sweater she was wearing: _his_ green sweater. His stomach made the all too pleasant flips at the sight of her wearing his clothes, and he felt as ashamed about it now as he did when he first gave it to her. Despite ripping off her sweater, it had taken the sight of her with her hands tucked into her armpits, her ears almost level with her raised shoulders, for his brain to kick in that she was cold. Of course she was cold, they were up a mountain in the middle of an Albertan winter and in a basement for Christ's sake, it didn't get much colder than this. So he had quickly taken off his sweater and shoved it at her, refusing to look her in the face as he mumbled what could have been an apology, or an order for her to take it. He hadn't even been sure.

Ashley had then proceeded to take it from him without a word, and neither commented on it further. He had found it hard to even look at her while she was wearing it, the warmth pooling in his stomach making him feel like an awful human being, and a horrible friend. He had just watched his best friend _die_ and his other best friend was half covered in the first's blood. Seeing his long-time crush wearing something as simple as his sweater shouldn't have made him feel even a tiny bit better, but it did. And he hated himself for it.

Trailing his eyes back up from the bunched up sleeves though, he felt the pleasant flips harden and then sink like a rock to the base of his stomach at the sight of her face. Specifically, the dark bruise of her swollen eye from where Josh had punched her.

"...ris? Chris!"

Sam's voice pierced the fog of his mind, and he shook his head to clear it, suddenly aware of the pounding behind his left eye. "Sorry. What was that?"

While Sam was still facing Ashley, she had turned her head to him and was frowning worriedly. "I asked if you were okay, but I really think you should sit down too."

With a nod, Chris collapsed next to Sam on the sofa, putting her in the middle of him and Ashley, and didn't say anything else, just closing his eyes once he realized how exhausted he actually was. Fuck, his head hurt.

The next thing he felt was someone removing his glasses and then two mercifully cool hands on the either side of his face. Who then unmercifully put their thumbs beneath his eyes and forced them open, tilting his entire head downwards. Without his glasses, the face in front of him was a blur, but the blonde hair and hum of deep thought identified them as Sam's.

"Hmmm. Can't tell if you have a concussion or not. Though the bruise on your head is pretty nasty." He had to agree with her there, it sure certainly felt it.

"M' fine. Just tired. It's been a long night."

Sam gave a short, dry laugh. "Don't I know it. Still, can't have you falling asleep until we can get it checked out. How is—" she paused for a moment before continuing, "Where's Mike?"

Fully opening his eyes, Chris put out his hand and felt his glasses being placed softly and carefully in his palm, and also felt what he knew to be the scratchy wool fibers of his own sweater catching on his fingertips. He ignored the jolts of electricity that traveled from his fingertips, up his arm, and down his spine, just as he had ignored the stumble in Sam's voice and the question she had almost asked.

"He stayed behind to watch over Josh in the shed." He put on his glasses and blinked owlishly at the sight of Sam only inches away from his face, who then used her hands still cradling his head to jerk it up. She then proceeded to ignore his mumbled ‘ow’ and narrowed her eyes at the sight of the small round burn where his jaw met his throat. Behind Sam, Ashley winced and didn't meet his eyes. "Didn't trust him to be alone."

Sam just frowned harder, and the stare she gave him was exponentially colder then her fingers. "And you didn't stay behind with them? To help keep an eye on your best friend?"

The accusatory tone of her voice was enough that he flinched and tried to look anyplace but her. He settled on Ashley's hands, still curled up protectively inside the sleeves of his sweater. The reply he did give was quiet and ashamed. "Mike insisted on keeping him in the shed. I-I just—”

_Chris get us out of here! I though we were friends man! Tonight we’re gonna conduct a little experiment. I don’t want to die! Choose who you will save. What did I do?!_

_So you have chosen Ashley._

“I’m sorry.”

One of Ashley's hands made its appearance and circled her other, still covered, wrist. Huh, that was odd. Normally Sam was the one with the neurotic wrist rubbing.

Either Sam decided to drop the subject for later, or she suddenly realized why the shed was a 'Bad Thing' for Chris. Either way, she apparently noticed the concerned look on his face and followed it to Ashley's hands, who also noticed and tried to hide them in her lap. It was a valiant, but useless, effort. In an instant, Sam's hands dropped from his face and grabbed at Ashley's (pathetically) hidden ones. The moment Ashley gave a cry of pain, Chris had never felt more awake in his life. It was almost instantaneous really.

"Ash? What's wrong? Are you okay?" The words tumbled from his mouth in flurry of panic and worry. The only reason he hadn't ripped her wrist from Sam's grip was because he sat beside Sam and now her back was to him, blocking him from doing so. She ignored them both, pulling up the loose sleeve of his sweater and pulled down Ashley's glove to reveal a bright red burn, nearly two inches thick, that circled the entire wrist, and dark bruises just above that. Sam glowered furiously at her, and grabbed her other hand, revealing the same thing.

For the first time, Chris wondered if Ashley hadn't tucked her hands under her arms because she was cold, but because she had been trying to hide them from him.

"Why didn't you tell me about these?!"

Ashley flinched at the anger and hurt in Sam's voice when the blonde had gotten up and started to dig through the numerous cabinets in the bathroom. She looked away, refusing to meet Chris' eyes, where he was sure the same hurt was reflected. He wasn't angry though, had never truly been angry with her. Frustrated sure, exasperated certainly, but never angry.

"It's, it’s nothing. Just a little chaffing."

Sam spun around, fury in her eyes, and brandished a finger at Ashley, but never left her spot where she was rooting around in the cupboard. "Nothing? Rope burn is not 'nothing' Ash! If not treated and cleaned right away, it can lead to infection! And while yours might not be major, its still pretty bad. And that bruising is only gonna make it worse."

Memories of Ashley hanging in the shed, fighting against the rope tied around her wrists keeping her suspended, and of Ashley frantically tugging helplessly at the metal bindings that locked her hands to the chair swam in front of Chris' eyes and he felt sick. The urge from earlier to go and punch Josh didn't dissipate.

With cry of victory, Sam pulled out the first aid kit from under the sink and started to dig through it. She pulled out rolls of gauze and bandages and tape and a what looked like a bottle of pills of some sort. The bottle she held up to her face for a moment, "should be fine, only a couple of months" was all Chris was able to make out before returning to her digging, which only grew more frantic when it seemed she couldn't find what she was looking for. Finally, she gave a frustrated shout and shoved the first aid kit off to the side. Murmuring murderously, she grabbed a new washcloth and ran it under the water from the sink. He caught something about the Washington's and their awful kit making skills, but decided it was best not to pry.

After apparently coming to the conclusion that this was as good as it was gonna get, Sam returned to her spot between Chris and Ashley on the couch. Despite her earlier frustration, her grip on Ashley's arm and damp cloth dabbing at her wrist was exceedingly gentle. After spending a few moments to clean the wrist in question, Sam sighed loudly and handed him the cloth. Where he then proceeded to just stare mind-numbingly at the blood contrasting sharply against the white cotton.

The sick feeling? Wanting to go and hit Josh? Only getting stronger and stronger by the second.

"Wish I had some aloe gel or something to help with the burns, but this will have to do until later I suppose." With great effort, Chris managed to tear his eyes away from bright red smears on the cloth and looked up at Sam's voice, watching her carefully wrap the gauze around Ashley's wrist. She then turned to look at him, or rather the quickly drying cloth in his hand. "Can you go re-wet that for me while I finish up with this wrist?"

He blinked once, twice, and stood up. "Uh yeah, sure, okay." He walked to the nearby sink and turned on the tap, watching the water run down the drain.

"Oh and, uh, make sure that the water's cool. And to wring it out, I only need it a little damp."

He made a slight adjustment to the tap, lowering the heat just a bit, and put the cloth and his hands under the now cool running water. Watched as the water turned slightly pink and swallowed roughly, trying desperately to ignore the heavier and heavier stone sinking in his stomach. He gave the cloth a final clean on the water ran clear and turned off the faucet, wringing out the cloth to leave it dampened enough for Sam. As he handed the now clean and damp cloth to her and she took with a murmur of thanks, he made a depressing note about the way Ashley was still refusing to meet his eyes and biting at her bottom lip. With that last image fresh in his mind, he fell back onto his spot on the couch and pushed his glasses up onto his forehead when he placed his head in his hands. His head still pounding painfully behind his left eye.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there like that, could have been a few seconds, could have been hours, but was brought back by a hand shaking his shoulder. He looked up, letting his glasses fall awkwardly back into place, and stared nonplussed into a large glass of water in Sam's hands. When had she done that? He didn't even hear the water running, or feel her move from her spot next to him on the couch. He must have been more out of it then he thought.

"Here." Sam shoved the water into his hand once he had fixed his glasses, and placed something small into his other. He looked down at two small pills and looked back up. "It's just some Tylenol. It's admittedly a couple of months past the expiration date, but it should be fine. Should hopefully help with your head at least."

Chris nodded and popped the pills in his mouth and took a swig of the water. Only to realize how dry his throat was and chugged the rest of it, feeling marginally better from the cold water on his parched throat. Sam took the glass back and placed it on the countertop next to a second one (where had that one come from?), and proceeded to grab two hand towels from the linen closet nearby.

"I'll be right back, so both you stay here." With that order, Sam left the room and he heard her footsteps slowly lessen until they vanished completely. For a moment, the bathroom was quiet and he sat there in solemn silence on the other side of the couch from Ashley.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry Chris. I wouldn't have done if I had known! I swear!"

Until he turned to look at her, voice frantic as she apologized for he wasn't even sure what. At some point she had tucked herself into a ball at the furthest end of the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees, creating a barrier between the two of them. The sight of it hurt Chris far more then he would ever admit to anyone, she never closed herself off like this to him. She wasn't even looking at him, instead staring down into what little space there was between her bent knees and chest.

"It was just suddenly you were on the floor, and he was standing there and I-I-I panicked. But I didn't know it was him! I swear!"

"Ash..."

Ashley didn't seem to hear him, she was refusing to let him get in a word edgewise as she continued her frantic babbling, almost bordering on sobbing now. Her fingers had begun to play with the ribbed cuffs of the woolen green sweater, as though it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me!"

Maybe it was the last sentence, maybe it was the sight of her almost sobbing for the _n_ th time tonight, maybe it was just to stop her from closing herself off from him. Whatever the reason, Chris had just about lunged over to her side of the couch and lightly wrapped his hands around Ashley's upper arms, speaking in hushed, comforting tones as he frantically tried to calm her down.

"Ash! Ash, it's fine. You're fine. We're fine. So just look at me. Please."

To his relief, it seemed to be working a little. She had loosened her grip around her legs and seemed to relax just a bit. But she was shaking her head nonstop and was still refusing to look at him. So he tried again, this time slowly running his hands down her arms and taking her hands in his. He moved her arms away from her legs entirely, trying desperately to ignore the dark bruising around her wrists that the bandages were unable to hide.

"Listen, I don't know what this is about. But I could never, _ever_ hate you."

Slowly, she uncurled her legs from her chest and relaxed her shoulders. It was enough. He sighed, relieved that he had been able to calm her down, until she looked up into his face, and he felt his heart break at the tears building up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Now, will you tell me what all this is about?"

"I stabbed Josh."

Wait. _What?_

"It was an accident!" Oh, he must have said that out loud. "Or well, I guess it really wasn't an accident, but I wouldn't have done if I had known it was Josh at the time, I swear!"

Chris let go of one of Ashley's hands and raised it as he gestured at her to stop for just a minute. "Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. Wait. You stabbed Josh?" She nodded sheepishly and he stared at her like she had grown a second head. The last time he had been this confused was when he had had to write an essay for English class three years ago on the uses of blood in Macbeth to symbolize his building guilt and descent into madness. And just like Ashley had helped him with that, Chris needed her to explain this one to him too.

And he knew just the way to do it.

"Who."

This time, it was Ashley who stared at him incredulously. He didn't need to be psychic to know that she was thinking that he had lost his mind at some point during the events of their far, far, _far_ too long night. And honestly, considering it had only been a couple of hours since the Ouija board thing, yet felt like years ago, he probably had.

"W-what? What do you mean-"

"I asked who, not what Ash. We're not there yet."

"Not there? What does that even mean? Are you sure you're feeling okay? I can go get Sam-"

Chris ignored her. "Who, Ash? Who."

"Sam. You know, Sam Giddings? Blonde, five foot nothing, climbs sheer rock faces for fun, that Sam?"

He just repeated his question, more incessantly this time. "Who?"

Finally, he watched her face change to dawning understanding as the proverbial light bulb went off. He could practically see the gears turning once all the pieces snapped into place in her head. "Wait. Are you seriously doing Five and One right now?"

Chris shrugged. "Who."

The look of disbelief on her face made it hard to fight the grin that was struggling to form. "Oh my god. I can't believe you."

"Hey, you're the one that made the game up in the first place. You said that it was to help me understand the finer points of our English homework when we were kids, I'm just making use of the tools at my disposal."

"Are you serious?" Somehow, her look of total disbelief only got stronger. "When we were kids? We just did this only a couple of weeks ago when I helped you study for your mid-terms!"

Oh, now Chris couldn't help but grin, beaming widely at her as he lightly squeezed the hand he hadn't let go of. "Exactly. Who."

Ashley's exhale of breath had caught somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, but it was enough to cause Chris to give a congratulatory fist pump of victory in his head. A feeling that was soon demolished by disappointment when she started move the hand that he was _still_ holding even now. But instead of removing it like he expected, she instead adjusted so she was able to lace her fingers with his, not only holding him more firmly, but closer and far more intimately as well.

Any other thoughts and feelings were quickly wiped from his mind, now all he could think of doing was leaning forward and closing what little distance there was between them and just kissing her.

"Josh." Ashley took a deep breath and looked down ashamed. "And me too, I suppose."

Oh, right. "What." _Now is not the time for this Hartley. Get it together!_

"I stabbed him," A short pause, followed by, "in the shoulder."

"Where."

"In the room where we found that dummy of Sam tied up to the chair."

"When."

"I don't know the exact time, but it was after he had knocked you out with the gas or something."

Chris took a steadying breath and gave a reassuring squeeze of his hand, and tried desperately to ignore how right it felt with their fingers intertwined liked this. "Why."

"You were just laying there on the floor, and I didn't know if he had killed you or not. I-I panicked."

Things were starting to make more sense now at least, it explained why he didn't remember it in the first place. And also why...

Without even realizing or even thinking about it, his free right hand had cupped Ashley's cheek, his thumb resting just below the dark bruising around her eye. "Is that why he hit you?" he asked. Or tried to at least. His voice had trailed off somewhere near the middle of the sentence when she had leaned into his palm, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

"In his defense, I did kinda stab him." He could feel her voice vibrate through the palm of his hand, and _wow_ if that wasn't making him feel all sorts of nice and warm things. Once again, he saw the image of just going for it and finally kissing her pass through his mind (all he would have to do is just tilt her head up _juuuuust_ a smidgen), but pushed it away just as quickly as it had arisen.

"Why didn't you run after that? You would've had time to escape."

She shook her head, but so slowly that she never actually left the palm of his hand, and he watched as her eyes fluttered close. "I froze. And, well, I just couldn't leave you there. Wouldn't leave you. I was scared that if I left then I wouldn't see you alive again."

"Still shouldn't have hit you though."

He felt, rather than heard, her hum in what could have been agreement or not. And fuck, there was that image again, except it was now almost a thousand times harder to dismiss than it had been only a couple of seconds earlier.

 _Now is not the fucking time, Hartley._ She needed him as her best friend, not as the insensitive asshole piece-of-shit his brain was trying to convince him to be.

"You still have one more question."

What? Question? Huh? What was she... oh. Right. That. With more difficulty than he dared to admit, Chris removed his hand from Ashley's cheek and let it hang uselessly beside him, forcing himself to believe that he was imagining the dismay that crossed her face when he did so. "How."

"With a pair of crafting scissors." Wait, when the hell did she find those? He wasn't sure if was because of the confusion on his face or not, but she continued. "You remember that book of industrial light bulbs I found? They were under that. I figured that maybe they would come in handy."

The joke (admittedly horrible, even by his standards) was on the tip of his tongue: 'I think you mean _shoulder_ -y' but was forgotten in an instant. Namely, the moment she let go of his hand. And before he even had the time to process _that_ she had thrown herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she hugged him like he was going to vanish from next to her on the couch at any moment. Looking back, he would realize that it hadn't even taken him a second to return the embrace. His arms had gone around her and held her to him tightly, the fingers of his hands digging with an iron-like grasp into the back of woolen sweater to hold her in place against him. He buried his face into her neck, nose picking up the scent of what may have been her shampoo (slightly citrus-y with a hint of something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on) underneath the far stronger smells of blood, sweat, and dust that was probably ( _definitely_ ) older than he was. And though it might have just been him alone, he had a feeling that the both of them were trembling as they held each other. In that moment, he was sure of one thing: that they were safe. _Alive_.

And most important of all: together.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there on the couch (seconds? minutes? hours?) just holding each other. Eventually, Ashley was the one to pull away, though it wasn't very far at all. All she really did was just bring her head up until their faces were only inches away from each other. And with her sitting on her knees on the couch, their noses were nearly touching they were so close now. Chris could only stare at her, scared that any movement at all would cause this entire thing between them to shatter like thin glass. He didn't even move when he felt her arms slowly unwind from around his neck, though he very nearly flinched when she gently placed both of her hands on the side of his neck, her fingers just grazing the edges of his jaw and her thumbs resting below his chin. It was amazing really, only a few moments earlier her fingers had been cool beneath his, and now her touch was like fire on his skin.

He could feel one of her fingers gently brushing at the faint, circular burn on the right side of his neck, just below the edge of his jaw, and his mouth went dry. Suddenly, that glass of water felt like hours ago and he swallowed nervously, wondering if she had felt that.

And slowly, ever so slowly, he let his own hands fall from where they had been gripping the back of the woolen sweater to rest carefully around her waist. It was light enough that if she wanted to pull away at any moment she could (though _god_ , he prayed that she wouldn't), but enough of a weight that he could feel her every breath that she took.

"I'm so glad."

Ashley's voice had been so quiet, so _tender_ in it's inflection, that for a moment Chris had thought he had simply imagined it. He blinked, partially out of confusion and partially because the sound of her voice like that had shut-down any other forms of processing. Thankfully, she continued before he could muster up any semblance of speech.

"I don't know what I would have done if you fired the gun."

It was the slight sob buried underneath her words that finally, _finally_ , convinced his tongue to start working again. "Blanks." Though not very well apparently. He cleared his throat and tried desperately to ignore how close she was. It didn’t work. "Josh said the gun had blanks, so I was just a coward."

"It doesn't matter!" Ashley shook her head vehemently, the tips of her nails biting minusculey into his skin, before staring back at him, her eyes wet with unshed tears and biting her lower lip. "It wouldn't have mattered. Blanks are still a bullet. Firing one that close would have shattered your jaw, it still could have killed you!"

Oh. Chris felt his blood run cold with the admission, but pressed on anyway. "I don't care. I was a coward. I _should_ have shot anyways. I watched the saw getting closer and closer to you and I still couldn't do it! You were crying in fear and I was too scared to do it! I—"

"Stop it! A shuddering breath, and then, "Just, just stop it. Please." Oh, she was crying now, huge shuddering sobs that broke his heart because he caused it. "It wasn't because of the stupid saws, I was scared that you were going to actually shoot yourself! Do you think I wanted to live knowing that it was because you killed yourself? I would have rather died in that room with you!"

Chris didn't say anything, wasn't sure if he _could_ _hav_ e said anything to that. So he just watched Ashley, take slow, deep breaths to try and calm herself, while he was too scared to remove his hands from her waist and help wipe away her tears. God, he really was just a huge coward.

"So thank you. For not firing the gun, and for giving me the chance to do this." And with that, he watched numbly as she ducked her head down and gently, so light it was like a feather brushing against his skin, pressed her lips to his jaw and kissed the burn mark from the gun.

Chris could feel the moment his brain short-circuited and he shut down. All systems were on stand-by and he couldn't do anything until it rebooted. So he just sat there, sitting on the couch, hands on Ashley's waist, her lips on his jaw, because this had just happened and his brain wasn't _working_. Both it and his body were screaming at him to do one thing, and one thing only: kiss her.

_Kiss her. Kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her._

When she spoke again, it was with her breath warm on his neck and despite the fact that he was literally blue-screening right now, his hands tightened their hold on her waist. "Did you really mean it? What you said in there?"

_Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it. Do it!_

Thankfully his brain had rebooted enough that he was able to respond in a breathless whisper. Because for the first time since Sam had left him and Ashley alone in the lodge's bathroom, he actually knew what she was talking about right now. "Yeah."

_Kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her. Why haven’t you fucking kissed her already?!_

Ashley's response was just as simple and breathless as his had been. "Good."

Before he could even muster something, _anything_ up, particularly the ability to follow through with what his entire being was screaming at him to do, he turned at the sound of one of the doors leading to the bathroom hallway closing with a slam. The wrong move, clearly, because the next thing Chris knew was that something collided into his forehead, specifically the spot where Josh had hit him just above his left eyebrow. He let out a biting 'FUCK!' and immediately placed both of his hands over the area and bent over double. When people said that they saw stars after getting hit hard enough, he hadn't realized that they were being serious! Even though his eyes were closed occasional spots of brilliant white appeared before vanishing just as quickly.

If he didn't have a concussion already, he certainly did now.

"Oh my god Chris! I'm so sorry! I didn't realize that you had moved!"

"Sorry I took so long guys, but these should hopefully help and—what the hell just happened here?!"

Sam. That was Sam. She was back from wherever she had had to go, and his head felt like it was going to fucking split in half. Because Ashley had hit him. Why would she have done that?

He wasn't able to get much further in his thoughts before a set of hands had hurriedly removed his own and placed something on his forehead. Something cold and wet and cold and _freezing_ and felt like what he was pretty sure manna from heaven tasted like. Without a second thought, he grabbed onto the blissfully freezing cold thing and held it himself, now recognizing the distinctly glove-less hands to be those of Sam. He didn't know where she had found or gotten this but he very well could have kissed her.

Taking solace in the numbness of the cold for just a few seconds longer, Chris finally opened his eyes and in that instant realized three things. One, Ashley had somehow managed to clone herself because there were currently three of her in front of him. Two, they were also holding something to their eye where Josh had punched them, particularly the Washington embroidered hand towels that Sam had grabbed earlier, which was weird cause she had only grabbed two. The third, and by far the most important discovery, was that all of them were still sitting as close to him as she had been only moments before. Despite the fact that Sam was now in the room with them, and her face was nearly as red as her hair.

"Are you two okay?"

Slowly, the world spinning as he did so, Chris turned to look at the two Sams and realized a fourth very important thing: though it was obvious she had tried to hide it, Sam's eyes were quite red and puffy, and faint tear tracks were still evident on her face. "Yeah. I think so." With his free hand, he gestured aimlessly toward the object he was still holding. "Where did you manage to find these?"

Sam shrugged. "It's just some snow. I went outside and packed a little bit of snow into the towels. I figured it would help with the swelling if nothing else."

The Ashleys weren't looking at him, both them (wait, where had the third one gone?) were biting their lip and resolutely giving all their attention to Sam. "Smart. That was a good idea. Good planning on your end Sam!" They were also taking a mile a minute and in their frantic talking the compress covering the eye slipped. It hadn't slipped much, a quick fumble that was back in only a second, but it was enough for him to notice a small mark rapidly fading away against the red of her face in the center of her forehead. It was this final clue that finally clicked all the puzzle pieces in Chris' scrambled brain together. She had tried to kiss him.

Ashley hadn't meant to hit him on purpose. He had (stupidly!) turned his head to see what was going on and she had smacked her forehead into his. Because she had tried to _kiss_ him. She had _wanted_ to kiss him.

"...Are you sure you're both okay?"

Chris could only nod dumbly and he didn't hear what Ashley's response was because he was too busy trying to work through the fact that Ashley Brown had tried to kiss him. Him! Not Josh, or Mike, or Matt. Or even Jess, or Em, or Sam. Him! Computer nerd, climbing class failure, king of bad jokes Chris Hartley!

Suddenly, his head didn't hurt so much anymore, he was too busy celebrating on cloud nine.

"...Alright. If you say so..." Sam was giving them an unsure look and while he couldn't really blame her, he also didn't give a damn. She looked at them suspiciously for a moment longer before changing the subject and turning to Ashley. Which was fine with him. As long as she didn't bring up the fact that Ashley was practically sitting in his lap, then he saw no problem in continuing to pretend that she hadn’t taken too long in just grabbing some snow downstairs. "Whatever. Where did you put your bag Ash? I'll bring you a pair of clothes you can change into and—"

Whatever else Sam was going to say was lost at the terrified scream and frantic pounding on the front door downstairs. In an instant, Chris threw his snow compress to the floor and hurried with Sam and Ashley down the stairs to see what else the night was going to put him through now.


End file.
